Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand
Page 29

Except me, ’cause I’m more secure than that. Mostly. I might have inched a little closer to Ben. But then, his jaw wasn’t open. He arced a brow and pursed his lips.
She looked at us, and those scarlet lips turned a smile. She marched over. Though she looked supernatural—in one sense—she smelled human. Basic, even. No perfume, no extras. Leather, clean soap, and gun oil. I’d bet an awful lot that that she carried a gun in a holster under that jacket. Maybe another tucked in the back waistband of the skirt. And probably a knife in her boot, stilettos up her sleeves, throwing stars in her pockets, and God knew what else. Everyone in the place might have stared, but no one sauntered up to offer to buy her a drink, because she was the scariest-looking person here.
“Brenda, Brenda, Brenda, I was wondering when you’d make an appearance,” Evan said, smiling and offering his hand for shaking.
She glanced at it, didn’t take it. Hands on her hips, she looked us all over like we were drenched in pond scum.
Evan smirked like this was par for the course with Brenda. And my God, did she not look like a Brenda. More like a Veronica, or maybe a Blaze. He carried on. “Brenda, do you know Ben? Ben, this is—”
“Oh, we’ve met,” Ben said.
“Been a while. How’s that knee?” Brenda asked, studying him up and down. I inched a little closer to him again. I wondered: was this all an act on her part? Surely nobody was this in-your-face naturally.
“Fine. Thanks,” Ben said, deadpan. Okay, that was a story I needed to pry out of him.
Then she looked at me. Scanned me up and down just the same way, and for some reason I suddenly felt like I had a target painted on my chest.
“And hello to you,” she said wryly. “I’ve always wanted to ask you something: Kitty’s your stage name, right? It can’t be your real name.”
She was about to make a “werewolf named Kitty” crack. I could feel it. My smile was strained to the point of breaking. “It’s my real name. Proof that God has a sense of humor,” I said.
“That’s too damn funny for words,” she said, shaking her head. “You like living dangerously, I take it.”
Who, me? A werewolf standing in the middle of a mini supernatural bounty hunter convention? “Oh, come on, are you telling me we aren’t all civilized people here?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. What’s the story, boys? There a reason you’re letting someone like her hang around?”
Which meant whatever it was she hunted, and however good she was at it, she hadn’t spotted Ben. None of them had. It was all I could do not to sigh with relief. But any second now another one of them was going to walk into the bar, and that one would be psychic, or magic, or something, and blow the whole deal. I didn’t want to know what this crowd would do if they found out what had happened to one of their own.
I relaxed and tried not to cling to Ben. That, if anything, would give it all away.
“She’s okay, Brenda,” Ben said. “Let her alone.”
She got close to him, right in his face. “And you are the last person I’d expect to stick up for something like that. No, I take it back—the second-to-last person. But Cormac’s not around at the moment, is he?”
“No, he’s not.”
I didn’t like this. We were cornered against the bar, and she was staring him down like she wanted to take a piece out of him. Ben was tense, but I was ready to crawl out of my skin. Wolf wanted to get out of here. Brenda smelled dangerous.
“He should have finished her off when he had the chance.”
Before either of us could respond—not that explaining the situation would have helped—Evan made a nod toward the bar and said to Brenda, “Let me buy you a drink.”
“I can buy my own damn drink. Club soda with lime!” she called to the bartender, who was in the middle of drawing a couple of beers. He glanced over in a panic.
It occurred to me that perhaps she was over-compensating.
“You know, it’s late,” I said, pointing a thumb toward the door. “I think I’m going to head out. It was nice meeting you all.”
“Late?” Brenda smirked. “That’s rich coming from one of you lot.”
“I’m atypical.” My smile was stiff. “Good night.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Ben said, mostly sounding casual, and fell into step with me.
“I imagine she does need someone watching her back around here,” Brenda said. Ben tossed her a fake salute.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, but I still had too much pride to run. Out of sight of the bar, walking down the hall to the elevators, Ben took my hand and squeezed.
“You okay?” he said.
“Yeah. I might have preferred someplace a little quieter. With fewer people.”
“Sorry. I just wanted to see who all was around. You can usually find everyone in the bar sooner or later.”
“And Brenda. What was that? ”
He chuckled. “Just goes to show you don’t have to be a werewolf to be an alpha female.”
“Boy, you said it. I’m not even a human being to her, am I?” I said.
“Nope. That’s how all those guys justify hunting people like you. Er, like us.”
“And you used to be one of them.”
“Not really. Well. Maybe. I mostly just tagged along.”
Which was how he ended up as a werewolf in the first place. Just tagged along to watch Cormac’s back, and the monster flanked him. He was lucky to be alive. Or not, depending on your point of view.
Maybe he was thinking the same thing, because he had this sad look on his face, a distant gaze. Like he knew he wasn’t part of that world anymore. Maybe he even missed it.
“I still want to know about you and Brenda,” I said.
“Jealous?”
“Trick question, honey.”
“All I want to know is how she can sprint in four-inch heels without breaking her stride, but I wear track shoes, trip on a pebble, and tear a ligament that puts me in a knee brace for eight weeks.”
“That’s our mysterious universe for you. And what were you hunting at the time?”
“Cormac.”
I raised a brow. What the hell was Cormac doing that had Ben and Brenda chasing after him? And why hadn’t I heard about it? And why... The questions could go on forever.